


Raise It Up

by Kalael



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTECK, Human Jack, M/M, Not my thing, Nothing happens while Jack is a kid by the way, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack tries to convince himself that it had all been a dream, but Emma has nightmares every night now and he doesn’t know what else to believe.  They have been cursed by a demon, he knows it.  The Boogeyman is haunting his sister and Jack is terrified for her wellbeing as well as her soul.  He can’t fight an unseen enemy, can’t make the nightmares go away. No amount of lullabies or hugs can take away the fear in Emma’s face.</p><p>Jack has to make a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Birthday present for Besteck/Fanartdrawer. Her prompt was Human!Jack/Pitch and I went a little crazy with it. There are 10 planned chapters. Happy birthday lovely <3

It isn’t uncommon to find brave souls in the form of children. Often times children are the most courageous...the most foolhardy, really. Pitch watches with distaste as the children of this small village run through a fallow field. They can’t see him, or they would have noticed him at edge of the woods watching them. Sometimes he finds one or two that fear him--but the colonies teach their children to fear other things, like bears and wolves and cold, dark nights. He would have better luck in Europe, where pompous little brats fear the big empty spaces beneath their overstuffed beds, but the siren call of a newly occupied country is too good to resist. The Native people don’t fear him, but their frustration and sorrow at the appearance of the violent newcomers is enough to tide Pitch over.

If only these new children of the colonies could fear him, he could take hold of this country. Get a foothold in the next generation, gain power, gain belief. It is as good a plan as any.

And when a little girl glances over from the rest of the children, eyes wide and fearful, Pitch knows that this is his chance.

He smiles, all jagged teeth and thin black lips, and the girl turns away with shaking shoulders. She tugs on a boy’s sleeve, likely her brother, and he glances over at the woods. He doesn’t see anything, but his eyes pass over where Pitch stands.

Yes. As good a plan as any.

 

\--

 

Jack isn’t afraid of anything. At least, nothing that he _should_ be afraid of. His mother scolds him for being too careless, too wild, too irresponsible. 

“You are thirteen years old,” she says, “you are old enough to take on some responsibilities around the household.”

He just wants to have fun.

But there is one duty that he takes on without arguing, and that is the care of his younger sister. Emma is only four, her face still round with baby fat even though her limbs have grown longer and thinner. She walks a little gawkily, as though she can't keep her balance without holding someone's sleeve, and she is the most precious thing that Jack has ever seen. He adores her, completely and utterly. It doesn't stop him from teasing her until she cries, but he would do anything for her laughter.

She is the one thing he fears for. Her life is more precious than any old story or warning that his mother shouts after him. Just as he would do anything for her laughter, he would also do anything to protect her. Fears or realities, he would battle them all for her.

That is why when she claims to have seen a shadow man in the woods, Jack believes her. And by extension, he begins to believe in the Boogeyman.

 

\--

 

It starts off slowly. There are flickers at the edge of his vision, shadows darting past where they shouldn’t be. In the forest he can blame it on woodland animals running through the brush, and at home he attributes it to flickering candlelight. Emma jumps at every noise and their parents begin to worry, but she won’t tell them what the problem is so Jack doesn’t either. It takes two weeks of Jack brushing it off until one day Emma is gripping his sleeve so tightly that the fabric nearly tears.

“It’s him.” She whispers, eyes fearful and voice trembling. Jack follows her gaze, prepared for the worst as he peers at the shadows in the corner of the barn. It’s not what he expects.

He believes. Of course he does, Emma would never lie. But he didn’t really think...well, he didn’t think that there would be something like this, an actual shadow man. He had thought it would be a hunter, or—or a vagabond. Not _this._

“Hello, Jackson.”

He sounds like the pompous British men who came to the village once and Jack immediately dislikes him for both that and for terrifying Emma. He pulls his sister behind him, feels her tiny hands knotting into the back of his vest.

“Who are you?” Jack demands, and the shadow man laughs.

“You can see me, yet you don’t know who I am?” There is an edge of bitterness in his tone but Jack can hear the malice overlaying it. Emma presses closer to his back and makes a small noise, a choked off sob. The man's smile grows when Jack glares at him.

"I don't care who you are. Stop frightening my sister."

“Brave soul.” Jack bristles at the mocking tone and shifts to keep Emma behind him as the man walks in a circle around them. “I am Pitch Black. You should fear me, boy. Your sister already does.”

“I’m not frightened of a man who hides from children like a coward.” Jack challenges. He is afraid, very much so, but more for Emma’s sake than his own. He is always afraid for Emma. Pitch eyes him appraisingly.

“Your foolishness will cause you great harm, one day. Tell me, Jack, why should I stay away from your sister? Because you told me to?” He laughs, hands clasped behind his back and stance relaxed. He isn’t threatened by a small boy like Jack. “Runt of the litter, as well. You are not very intimidating, I hope you realize. So old, and yet you believe in the Boogeyman...”

“The Boogeyman?” Jack asks in disbelief, and he almost laughs at the absurdity of it. But Pitch slides in and out of shadows like a wraith and Jack can almost feel the darkness closing in around them. The barn feels smaller and the shadows are climbing up the walls like vines, unnatural and inky dark against the wood.

Emma screams and Jack twists around to pull her into his chest. Not for the first time he wishes that he were taller, stronger, not as much of a runt—

“Ah, there it is.” Pitch says softly. “I knew there was a selfish fear within you somewhere.”

Jack tenses around Emma and squeezes his eyes shut. It’s all a dream this is just a trick this isn’t real it’s not happening.

Pitch laughs and Jack feels a warm, heavy hand rest on his back. The contact makes him jolt and Emma whimpers as she’s jostled against his chest.

“You can’t hide from me, Jack.”

And then the hand is gone. Jack doesn’t move, keeps his eyes closed, barely breathes.

Minutes go by. Nothing happens. Jack opens one eye and then the other, blinking at the harsh change in light. The abnormal shadows are gone, along with Pitch Black. _The Boogeyman._

Jack can’t shake off the fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack tries to convince himself that it had all been a dream, but Emma has nightmares every night now and he doesn’t know what else to believe. They have been cursed by a demon, he knows it. The Boogeyman is haunting his sister and Jack is terrified for her wellbeing and her soul. He can’t fight an unseen enemy, can’t make the nightmares go away. No amount of lullabies or hugs can take away the fear in Emma’s face.

Jack has to make a decision.

_“You are thirteen years old,” his mother is always telling him, “you are old enough to take on some responsibilities around the household.”_

Washing the dishes and feeding the horses is easy. Anyone can do it. But this is something that only Jack can do for Emma, and he has to take responsibility where others can’t. He waits until dusk, when his parents are cleaning up after dinner and getting Emma ready for bed. Jack goes to feed the horses and then slips behind the barn where no one can see him. The sun is hidden behind the woods now, only a faint golden glow peering over the treetops. Jack sucks in a breath and tries to calm himself even as he presses his back to the barn wall.

“Pitch Black.” He tries to sound brave but his voice cracks as he calls out to the demon. He waits in the half-light, relying on what little sun there is left to give him some courage. He doesn’t wait long.

“I’m a little surprised, Jack. I didn’t think you would call for me so soon.” Pitch glides out of the shadows of the forest, which end closer to Jack than he would prefer. He gets a better look at the demon now and finds himself pressing further against the barn. Pitch is huge, at least twice his size, with glowing eyes and grey skin. Definitely not human.

“I didn’t think I’d have to call at all.” Jack mutters, glaring sullenly at Pitch’s feet. He doesn’t like how uneven things are. He’s just a boy, he has no illusions about his place in the world. He’s too young to make much of a difference.

“Well, now that I’m here...” Pitch leans forward, slightly into the light, watching as Jack tenses up. He smiles at the boy and waits—there it is, that small shudder of terror. “What did you want, Jack?” He already knows, but he wants to hear it anyway. Children are such foolish things.

“I want you to leave my sister alone.” His voice doesn’t quaver. In this he is resolute. Pitch continues to smile.

“That, my darling boy, is a big demand. Your sister is a believer. She will not stop seeing me.” Not unless she stops believing, but she is young enough that Pitch can eke out a few more years of terror. Jack clenches his fists.

“Then go away. Stop being seen, or something, I don’t care. Just let Emma alone.”

“You ask a lot for a weak little boy. What do I get in return for following your wishes? I could tear you limb from limb if I so desired. What do you have to offer me?” PItch bares his teeth and Jack’s glare wavers, staring at the crooked fangs. What does he have? Pitch wants fear. Emma believes, he said, but how did that...

 _Belief_ , Jack realizes. Pitch needs belief, and that is why he is so determined to keep Emma.

“I won’t stop believing.” Jack says slowly, testing the words and cringing at what they mean for him. Pitch’s eyes narrow, waiting. “You said before...I’m one of the oldest, right? I won’t stop believing, then. I’ll give you what you want. Fear, too. You can have that. Just leave Emma alone.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re saying, boy?” Pitch asks. Jack expected him to sound amused, but instead the demon is gravely serious. He must have hit the mark.

“I’m taking Emma’s share of the fear. I’ll have her nightmares and everything. And...and even when I grow up, I’ll still do that. I’ll do it forever.” Jack continues on, feeling his face twist into a grimace as his own words register in his mind. Making a deal with the devil is not the smartest decision he’s ever made, but it might be worth it.

“You’re overestimating your value.” Pitch sighs, but his expression is thoughtful. Jack holds out hope.

Jack isn’t the first to have offered such a thing but he’s one of the youngest to do so. Jack is right, he’s one of the oldest in a long time, but there have been others. Adults driven to madness, to suicide. They’d never had a choice. Jack, a thirteen year old runt with nothing special to speak of, would willingly give himself over to Pitch for the sake of his snotty sister.

Pitch is not impressed by bravery but the idea of having an influence over this child into adulthood is an interesting one. The little girl is a small price to pay, he thinks, for a few decades more of fear.

“You have a deal.” Pitch smiles and holds out his hand. Jack stares at it like a poisonous animal, then hesitantly reaches out to shake it. His hand is dwarfed by Pitch’s and his fingers feel like they are being burned. He shakes once then snatches his hand away, examining it for any sign of a contract. He is devoid of any marks.

“So this...” Jack looks up to find that Pitch is gone, vanished as though he had never been there. His mother calls from the house, and with one last glance at the woods, Jack slowly trudges inside.

That night Jack wakes up smothering a scream into his pillow, while Emma sleeps soundly until morning.

 

\--

 

“Jack, your mother and I...we...are you alright?” Jack stares at his father as he’s addressed, trying to blink away the blurriness from lack of sleep. “It’s not...normal. These night terrors.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s nothing to apologize for. We just worry, Jack. You haven’t slept proper in weeks.” His father is the picture of concern and Jack feels guilt weighing heavily in his gut. He can’t tell them about Pitch, or the deal. He’s already damned himself to hell, there’s no use in dragging the rest of his family with him. There was always a chance that they wouldn’t believe him, or that Pitch would go back to tormenting Emma again.

“It’s just nightmares.” Jack says quietly. His father sighs and ruffles his hair.

“Well, we’ll pray. Perhaps there’s something plaguing you.” Jack almost laughs, a hysterical giggle already catching in his throat. He swallows it down and nods. When night falls he obediently kneels at his bedside, hands clasped before him as he mumbles the nightly prayer. He doesn’t bother adding anything about Pitch, though he does hope that God might give him some reprieve.

Instead, a hand reaches out from under the bed and tugs on his nightshirt so hard that he tilts forward and knocks his head on the bed frame. Fear bursts inside of him like a satchel too full to contain anything any longer, and Jack can barely move as he listens for Emma across the room. She’s still breathing evenly, undisturbed.

“Rethinking the deal?” Pitch’s voice hisses from the shadows under the bed. Jack rubs at his forehead, feeling the tender skin there and hoping he won’t bruise.

“No.” He whispers. He doesn’t regret that Emma can sleep soundly in her own bed now. He’s just ashamed that he doesn’t have the strength to hold back his screams when he wakes in terror.

“Foolish.” Pitch almost sounds fond, though Jack can tell he’s being mocked. “You’re far too honest. I may have given you a reprieve if you had confessed to being frightened, but it seems as though I must teach you a lesson. Sleep well, Jack.” It is silent after that. Jack stays kneeling on the floor for a long time, trembling from exhaustion and terror. He wakes in the morning to his sister shaking him from where he had passed out on the floor, free of nightmares for the first time in days.

He’s not reassured by the lack of dreams. He knows that Pitch will be back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sort of a transitional chapter so sorry that the end gets kinda boring for a bit

They aren’t friends. Nothing close to that, really. But explaining their relationship, even in his own head, is confusing to Jack. Something symbiotic, or rather parasitic. Pitch feeds off his fears, that much Jack knows, and apparently he has that in abundance. He doesn't think it's fair that he's the only one being tormented like this when he knows the other children are even more afraid than he is, but he has noticed that the others can't see Pitch at all. Emma will catch glimpses but Pitch stays true to his word and keeps hidden from her. Jack is grateful for that small blessing, but it was the condition of the deal so he can't help but feel slightly bitter. He had gotten what he had wanted, but it doesn't quite seem to be a fair trade. He should have asked for more in return.

So Jack is left alone with his personal demon, who interrupts his prayers at night and runs clawed fingers over the blankets as he tries to sleep. Night after night he stays awake until he can no longer keep his eyes open, and the nightmares have him on edge for the rest of the day. It's a predictable cycle but it's not one that Jack could ever get used to. The nightmares change constantly, some worse than others, but all of them are jarring and leave him disoriented upon waking.

Many of the nightmares involve Emma and himself and in most of these he is not _enough_. Not strong or tall or powerful. Just a short little boy who is forced to watch as his sister is dragged away into the dark or torn apart by wolves or kidnapped in broad daylight. These particular nightmares have him emotionally exhausted for days, losing himself in mindless housework rather than playing with Emma. It worries his parents to the point where they have the doctor come to check on him, but there are no physical ailments to be diagnosed. The doctor suggests rest and plenty of water, but otherwise there is nothing to be done. Jack's father suggests the priest, and a possible exorcism, but Jack's mother insists that God would not allow an evil entity into their home, much less into Jack's pure heart.

They nail up a blessed cross at the doorway of their home anyway, and Pitch laughs into Jack's ear while he watches.

"You know that won't do any good. I am an ancient thing, not something a piece of metal can keep out." He says, and for a moment Jack is frightened that his parents might hear. But Pitch goes unnoticed, even as he stands to full height and places a hand on Jack's head in a mockery of affection. Emma has already gone to bed and Jack knows his parents can't see Pitch, or they would have asked for the priest long before Jack had even been driven to make the deal.

“You humans really are such ridiculous things. I’ll allow the cross, if only because it amuses me. I wonder what would happen if I gave them nightmares of their so-called demons.”

“Don’t.” Jack warns, and Pitch’s nasty smirk becomes a challenging stare. What can you do to stop me? Jack says nothing more and Pitch smiles before receding into the dark. Jack’s parents don’t complain of nightmares, but Jack suffers his own that tell him the story of what would happen to him should Pitch ever play the demon to the villagers.

Being burned at the stake is not appealing.

The seasons change quickly, the mild autumn becoming a harsh and unforgiving winter. Jack helps his father set traps in the woods and brings wood in to keep everyone warm, but no matter how large a haul they bring in of meat or fuel it never seems to be enough. Pitch grows irritated and Jack sees less of him, even in his nightmares. There is no shortage of fear in Burgess, not with the storms that threaten to destroy the entire village. Jack hears news of a stillborn baby from the Anderson family, and a toddler passing away from a severe cold. Emma is kept inside unless the day is clear and warm, and there are even days when Jack is forced to stay indoors. He sleeps dreamlessly most nights, too exhausted to do more than collapse into bed and shut his eyes until the sun rises late in the morning.

It is three months of unforgiving terror that Pitch appears to thrive on, if the roiling shadows are anything to go by, but Jack can tell that the man in going stir crazy. He disappears for days on end and grows increasingly agitated when he follows Jack through the snowy woods. It’s almost entertaining how Pitch acts like a bored child. It would be funnier if Pitch’s methods of amusing himself didn’t involve making Jack’s nightmares so violent that he wakes up screaming into his pillow. It feels as though winter will never end.

But eventually it does, and it leaves quietly. The storms leave and the snow melts slowly but surely. People grow more active and Emma is allowed to play in the meltwater that forms streams through the village. Unfortunately for Jack, he has a growth spurt and gains two more inches so quickly that the pain of it has him bedridden for a week. His own self-pity drives him mad.

“Perhaps you won’t be so uselessly tiny when you become an adult.” Pitch muses, and Jack throws a pillow at him in frustration. Pitch laughs and disappears until Jack is able to move around again a few days later.

Their relationships hasn’t changed much, Jack thinks. He still hates Pitch, and he’s still afraid, but the fear for Emma has dulled. He’s nearly afraid for himself, and that thought makes him feel weak and pathetic.

His birthday comes and passes. Pitch gives him nightmares that have him shaking as he wakes, but for some reason he can’t remember them. Time continues on.

When the leaves begin to change Jack takes charge of the household as his father leaves on longer hunting trips. He isn’t really in charge, his mother holds the reins and Jack wouldn’t dare take any of the decisive powers from her. Being in charge just means that in the rare event that something bad happens, he will be the one to try and take care of it. What does happen is not something that he expects.

His father is away and the days are growing shorter and colder. Emma complains of the cold, her small face ruddy from the bitter wind. Their mother begins making heavy stews to keep them full for longer, but that requires wood for the fireplace. Jack leaves through the back door while Emma tries to learn how to peel potatoes. At five years old she is no less clumsy, and Jack’s gangly fourteen year old body isn’t any more graceful.

“It will be winter again soon.” Pitch says from his place in the shadows by the barn.

“I’m sure you’re looking forward to that.” Jack shoots back. Pitch’s eyes from the darkness and then he reappears by Jack’s side when he opens the barn doors.

“There is a certain appeal to the terror winter brings.” Pitch hums. Jack makes a noncommittal sound, which Pitch frowns at. “Well, this is unlike you. Usually you are far too eager to argue with me.” Despite the goading, Pitch receives no response. He settles against the doorframe and watches Jack with unwavering intensity, which Jack can feel without looking behind him.

“It’s been a year.” Jack finally mutters, refusing to look at Pitch as he gathers firewood. “Haven’t you gotten tired yet?”

“Sick of me, Jack? Have you forgotten the deal?” Pitch bares his teeth in something like a grin, if wolves could smile as they wore down their prey. Jack looks away, unable to keep eye contact.

“No...it’s just, you’re constantly around. It’s like you don’t have anything better to do with your time.” Jack tries to explain. Pitch isn’t there every day, and he disappears for days on end without a word, but Jack feels as though he hasn’t had a moment to himself since the bargain was struck. Pitch tilts his head, considering.

“This is coming from the boy who refuses to sleep and hold up his end of the bargain. Remember, Jack, we made a deal. I could easily snatch up your sister, your mother, your father. It would be easy to have your entire family lynched.” Jack shuts his eyes and Pitch breathes in the fear that emanates from him, however weak it may be.

“So you’ve said before.” Jack sighs.

“Yet you still doubt me.”

“I don’t doubt you. I’m just…” Jack trails off and Pitch understands. Teenaged apathy has gripped Jack and he has begun to grow depressed. Pitch frowns and looks up at the moon, which is half hidden behind clouds. He had noticed that Jack’s fear is growing less appealing. Puberty is setting in, which means far less entertainment for Pitch. Well, the timing wasn’t too bad. He did have his plan to put into motion after all.

“You’ve begun to bore me. Very well, I’ll grant you a slight reprieve. But remember, you have promised me forever, Jack. If you dare to forget me I will destroy your sister and leave you with the shell of her body.” Before Jack can retort, Pitch disappears into the night.

Jack calls out, unnerved by the sudden exit, but Pitch does not respond. He is alone.


End file.
